The Hobbit: Dovahkiin Taloson
by Dapper Enderman
Summary: It has been many ages of the world since the Dovahkiin was last seen in the realms of Man, Elf and Beast and the ashes he left in his wake. But now a father has sort out his resentful son. A call for aid has been give and it is one the Dovahkiin must answer.
1. Chapter 1

The Hobbit: Dovahkiin

In a faraway land, which light and merriment had long ago vanished, deep beneath the earth lay a great cavern, in which could be found a once great city of the dwarves in elder days. Its paved roads and mason walls where hidden and drowned in what seemed like a sea of glimmering star light, but as one would gaze closer, they would see that this star light was instead the sparkle of gold, silver and gems. This hoard of loot had not always been present, but had been place, the cause of it slept deep under the surface, a beast of the now ancient wold, a Wyvern, a Dragon, a deadly and proud creature.

In many ages of the world past, the beast had made its nest in these sunless depths seeking its own solitude. But it had been found by the small and diminutive creatures that too inhabited this old city and they, in fear and wonder attacked the slumbering beast and it, in a fit of surprise and fury unleased a torrent flesh melting flame that not even the cunning stone work of the dwarves could withstand. When those that survived told of the great wyrm that slumbered in the darkness and the fire and death it wrought, a great fear came over their sightless eyes and shadow gripped their hearts, and always they avoided its cavernous dwelling. But in time and generations the fear they felt morphed to reverence and they sort to please the beast to ensure their survival, while they possessed many things they had none they judged fit for the beast, other than the smooth metals and humming gems of the ground walkers that they had taken, of which the creatures had little use.

So one day the leader of the creatures led a party laden with rings and trinkets entered the beast lair, in the darkness they heard the sound of leather and a low rumble as the beast moved its head and watched them approach, as they drew closer they heard the rumble become a hiss and the temperature in the cavern rose. Panicked the leader chittered as the creatures in turn dumped the treasure in front of the beast and retreated to what they considered a respectful distance. The beast of its part stared at them quizzically and giving a huff, lowered its head and returned to its slumber, the creatures chittered pleased and left the cavern but soon at least in the dragon's perspective they returned with more treasure and retreated once again. Soon enough, the pile became a trove, which became a mound, which became a hill, which became a mountain and finally shifting into a sea that filled wall to wall, as the beast fidgeted beneath the treasure.

But one day, they refused to enter the resting place of the beast for they sensed another presence there, one far more powerful and more ancient and they where not the only ones who felt it. Slowly like the shifting of the earth and the tied of the sea the dragon raised its head, the golden crown which it had slept under rolled of the fire red scales and bounced of the bronze horns as its fire filled eyes glowed in the blackness, surveying its domain.

_"__Wo lost haav dii deylok? Fos kril mey vodremt dii laag?" (Who has entered my domain? What brave fool disturbs my sleep?) _The Dragon rumbled, as it climbed out of its glamourous bed.

"Have you truly forgotten me?" said a voice from the darkness and from walked a plain looking man with tanned skin and brown hair. "I am hurt my son."

The dragon froze and slowly turned to the man; its burning eyes filled with a seething hate.

_"__Hi? Bo wah kahmaar bormah?"_ _(You? Come to gloat father?) _Whispered the Dragon, its great maw clenched.

"No Athelstan, I came to talk." The man spoke softly and sat down on a small mound of treasure. "I never knew you to hoard such wealth."

_"__Daar trimal? Nust los vahlut naal od fahliil, nii ofan niin osos sulvek wah mah dii bah lost kosaan drun vau." (These trinkets? They are left by the snow elves; it gives them some comfort to fell my wrath has been brought off) _The dragon dragged his clawed wing over the gold and fine jewels and turned a hard gaze on the man.

_"__Dreh ni brah tol faan. Athelstan dir pogaan_ _laas tiid vod; hi worax wah tol Bormah." (Do not use that name. Athelstan died many lifetimes ago; you saw to that Akatosh.) _The dragon once called Athelstan assumed a low posture, coiling himself tighter as if to pounce.

"Would you prefer _Dovahkiin_?" (_Dragonborn) _asked Akatosh and with a swiftness of a storm the dragon snapped his teeth in front of Akatosh's face, and for his part he did not flinch.

_"__Hi saag hi los het wah tinvaak, nuz pah Zu'u hon los zal nahlii kuyiz mebein ahraan!" (You say you are here to talk, but all I hear is salt being driven into festering wounds!) _The Dovahkiin roared as fire bloomed in his chest, its heat causing the gold and silver to wax. _"Tinvaak vahzah wah zey! Dreh ni iliis undin hin fask lu! Hi fozir zey tol pogaas!" (Speak true to me! Do not hide behind your soft magics! You owe me that much!)_

"You are still keen sighted my son." Akatosh said in a conciliatory voice, which only seemed to infuriate the Dovahkiin further. "I have a task for you."

_"__Ahsod! Ahsod hi lost fah zey!" (Task! Task you have for me!) _The Dovahkiin bellowed _"Druv fend Zu'u kuz naan ahsod hi drun wah zey? Hi wo lost laan ahrk kuz ful pogaas nol? Qiiv zey wah daar, urid zey voth vik faan nii ofan" (Why should I take any task you bring to me? You who have asked and taken so much from me? Shackling me to this form, rewarding me with damnation and calling it a gift.)_

"It was to teach you and show you how you had fallen!" Retorted the God, "Or have you forgotten you deeds too? _Dovahkiin Fahliil-Feyn, Dovahkiin Kriid do Alduin" (Dragonborn Elf-Bane, Dragonborn Slayer of Alduin) _

_"__Zu'u gevild pogaan tet." (I hold many titles) _The Dovahkiin purred, he moved his head forward curling his head and neck around his father. _"Vir pogaan do dii oo ful riilkei sod kolos drehlaan voth hin kogaan Zu'u tovok? Voth hin nahlon orlaav?" (How many of my oh so monstrous deeds where done with your blessing I wonder? With your silent consent?)_

The Dovahkiin brought his maw by his fathers' ear and whispered contemptuously into it, his voice filled with malice and dark delight.

_"__Vust hi hon pahlokaal fahliil ol nust pleaded wah hi fah niist lahney? Ol Zu'u wahsek Alinor ko yol ahrk dinok? Ful mightily hi zaal zey, tul hi fey hin haal. Zu'u miik niin drem ahrk nust fahraal voth tahrovin ahrk kriivah." (Could you hear the arrogant elves as they pleaded to you for their lives? As I bathed Alinor in fire and death? So mightily you condemned me, yet you stayed your hand. I offered them peace and they answered with treachery and murder.)_ The Dovahkiin whispered, drawing back and gave his father a baleful smile. _"Tol sos fos dreh nok ahst dii feet dreh ful nok ahst hin bormah." (That blood what does lie at my feet do so lie at yours father.)_

"There is a dragon that needs slaying." Akatosh growled out at his son, through a dark face. The Dovahkiin's fell into a hard look.

_"__Til los nid Dovah nidzos, Zu'u los laat ont zos. Zu'u korah hi medven worax wah tol." (There are no Dragons anymore, I am the last once more. I believe you likewise saw to that.) _The Dovahkiin said quietly and began to walk to the far side of the cavern.

"Not in this realm, in another far off," Akatosh started, walking through the glimmering sea keeping pace with his son. "The divines there in have called for aid, a darkness that threates all that is green and good is reemerging unseen and would use that dragon to bring low many innocents."

_"__Vorey gut vau suleyksejun los do nid hahvoth wah zey_." _(Other far off realms are of no concern to me_._) _The Dovahkiin rumbled as he tried to quicken his pace.

"If you do this, I shall bestow two gifts on you." Akatosh proclaimed appearing in front of the Dovahkiin. "One now and one upon completion."

The Dovahkiin lowered his head and turned one fiery to his father, it gleamed with suspicion.

_"__Fos ofan fund daar kos? Ol fahtiid nust straag wah sahlag pentaar." (What gifts would these be? As often they turn to petty punishments.) _The Dovahkiin questioned.

"I would gift to you, your old form." Akatosh said crossing his arms. "Once again you would be Athelstan Taloson."

_"__Fos do tol ziist?_" _(What of that second?) _Inquired the Dovahkiin carefully.

"I would grant you the gift you so desperately thirst for, the gift of men, but only when your task is complete." Akatosh spoke laying the bait. The Dovahkiin drew his head back, his eyes alight with surprise.

_"__Hi fund bolaav zey Sovngard? (You would grant me Sovngard?) _The Dovahkiin whispered and an unintended lust crept into his voice.

"If that is where you choose to dwell after your task is done, so be it." Akatosh nodded, he took a step forward. "What say you?"

_"__Fos fund hi lost hin Dovahkiin dreh." (What would you have your Dragonborn do.) _Said the Dovahkiin, lowering his head and spreading his wings in a mocking bow.

With a flash of light, both man and dragon vanished leaving the Snow Elves rather confused and perplexed, soon they fell into discussion over what they heard but this soon devolved into argument and a religious schism, over which most of their kin where slain.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a bright and green day as two men suddenly appeared in a meadow filled with rich flowers and golden stalks. The Dovahkiin looked longingly at his hands as he flexed his fingers and ran his hands down his body, giving a gasp of sensation and joy.

"Oh, to feel the touch of skin again, the warmth of the sun and the wind in the meadows!" The Dovahkiin wailed with joy as he felt the chill of the mornings breeze.

"I am glad you have found some mirth in this Athelstan." Akatosh said with a smile, only to be returned with a scowl, the joy fading.

"I see you did not see it fit to grant me clothing, am I to wander naked in this land?" sneered Athelstan. Akatosh raised an eyebrow and produced a small leather bag out of his plain robes.

"No son, I believe this is yours." He handed the bag over to Athelstan. "You abandoned it during our last argument."

Athelstan opened the bag and reached in and from it produced almost impossibly a long and sharp sword, made of a dark fogged steel that glinted in the suns light and at its hilt was laid gold, bronze and rich leathers, into it pommel was fixed a diamond ruby that seemed to glow in its depths with an almost pure light. Athelstan's body shimmered as if he was not truly there, soon coming back into focus he was now clothed in simple wanderer's kit. Brown woolen hose, a green linen shirt with a leather tunic over it, around it was along belt twisted into a simple knot and the jewelled sword which glittered and turned to dull iron as a glamour fell upon it. Slowly he fastened a green cloak around his shoulders and looked like any other traveller. Akatosh looked over his son and gave a huff of a laugh.

"What?" Athelstan asked suspiciously, giving a wary eye.

"Nothing," Akatosh smiled, "You just reminded me of someone I knew long ago, long before your time."

This seemed to satisfy the Dovahkiin as he continued to rummage though his long absent bag, he pulled out some items, knifes, potions and somehow still fresh food and stowed them in various pockets. Finally, he placed the bag on his belt and gazed plainly at the land.

"So where are we." Athelstan mentioned almost as if it was an afterthought.

"This is the world of Arda, as it is called by the divines here, more commonly it is known as Middle Earth." Akatosh began. But Athelstan gave a derisive snort.

"Inventive, I gather because its in the middle?" The Dovahkiin said with a sarcastic drawl.

"Most likely." Akatosh ground out. "This is the land that was once the Kingdom or Arnor, a mighty kingdom of men in elder days. Close to the borders of a place called The Shire, there in live the Hobbits or Halflings, a small people, kind, fond of their hearth and home, more content with the green and growing land than being industrious. I think you'll be quite taken with them."

"A strange place for a Dovah." Athelstan said rubbing his chin, frowning.

"The Dragon is not here, though one who will aid you in the task is here, or at least coming from the Shire." Akatosh pointed at a road by the meadow. "If you wait there he will come, he appears as an old man, but do not be fooled. He is a powerful servant of the gods of this land. His goes by Gandalf the Grey or Mithrandir, but his true name is Olorin. His gods have already informed him of your coming."

"Well then, I guess this is it father." The Dovahkiin turned to Akatosh and gave him a long look and started towards the dirt road.

"Son," Athelstan stopped and turned to look at Akatosh expectedly. "There was something else, something I was bade to give to thee."

Akatosh placed into the Dovahkiin's palm an amulet, it wasn't fine and gilded. It showed a dragon curling down to bite down on the tip of a sword which sprung from a bronze axe head, the mixing of the amulets of Akatosh and Talos. Athelstan was silent for a time, his chest heaving as he closed his fist over the amulet, and he closed his eyes tight.

"How came you by this?" The Dovahkiin said quietly.

"Your lady gave it to me and trusted it to keep you safe. She demanded that you return it to her in Sovngard." Akatosh said with care. Athelstan looked into his eyes.

"Sovngard? What of the hunt?" Athelstan asked, "What of Hircine?"

"He was convinced to give her up, if not only to avoid your conquest to reclaim her." Akatosh smiled. "But go now, I can feel Gandalf from afar, good luck son."

Slowly Akatosh faded into mist on the morning breeze leaving Athelstan to look into the far off trees, he looked back down to the amulet that he bore in his hand, it was heavier than he remembered, though the years had been long lost to time, he still remembered clearly the day he placed this amulet around the neck of his wife has he bore her to her funeral pyre, wrapped in fine red silks that where only fit for the Empress of Tamriel. He quietly placed it over his head and felt it tug on his neck, as he made his to the dirt road and found a stump he could sit on and waited patiently for this Gandalf to appear, brooding in long dead memories.

Thankfully he did not have to wait long, soon he heard the crunching of dirt and the mumbling of an old man about being good morning'd by some woman's son; as he drew closer, Athelstan saw that his father was right this being hiding himself well with a great bushy beard of grey and a mane of hair to match, he wore a robe and pointed hat to match and in his hand he held a wooden staff. To anyone else he would seem a harmless hermit, but the dragon within Athelstan stirred smelling the power that radiated from the apparent man, and sharpening his gaze, Athelstan reached out with his mind and bent his will upon the old man, with great effort he managed to shift the old man's glamour ever so slightly as saw a glimpse of pure light. Gandalf stopped and placed his off hand on the staff and lowered the tip slightly and peered around the countryside, sensing someone watching him.

"You should be more carful old man," Said Athelstan watching him, and Gandalf spun, but lowered his guard slightly seeing it was a man that looked to be one of the men of this land

"Oh, hello there." He said jovially, bringing back on the guise of a kindly old man, "I didn't see you there, I'm just passing though after seeing a friend in the Shire."

The Dovahkiin looked at Gandalf with a disinterested look, wondering how long he would keep the ruse, Gandalf for his part swung his arms and shifted finally growing tired of the man and mumbled to the man.

"Well, I must get going, people to see," Gandalf rambled, stopping briefly as an awkwardness overcame him then he started off. "Good morning."

Gandalf strode past the man at a quickened pace, he didn't get far until the man spoke again, this time in a voice that flowed with a power Gandalf had not felt before, he could feel it reach deep into his bones and shook them, tugging at his feet as if to stop them.

"The kin of men may not be able to perceive you, but I do. Olorin." Said the man.

Gandalf stopped in his tracks and turned his face to the man, his face more serious, the friendly old man act dropped, Gandalf leaned on his staff and gave a frowning look.

"So, you're the dragon slayer I was told about." Gandalf said evenly, looking over the man. "You don't seem to look like one."

Athelstan stood up and walked in front of Gandalf, looking him in the eyes and matching him in height.

"You of all people should know, appearances can be deserving." The Dovahkiin smiled and gave the wizard a search with his eyes. "I was told you where a servant of the powers of this world, but I wasn't told you are one of the powers of this world."

Gandalf's gaze hardened as he felt the mans' vision pierce his glamour, but he withdrew as he felt Gandalf summon his own power and peer though the vail of the man's own glamour.

"I suppose it is fair, since I have seen you for what you are." This dragon slayer said, as he took some steps back and allowed his glamour to slip from him.

Gandalf caught his breath as his eyes where met with a great light that shone from the mans breast, he grew in size and stature, scales grew on his flesh and a crown of horns sprung from his brow, until Gandalf beheld before him, not a man, but a dragon. Great and terrible it was to behold, he raised staff across his body to ward whatever weapons this being would bring to bear.

"Behold me, Mithrandir!" Rumbled the Dragon, his voice shook earth, stone and tree. Wind bellowed and howled, sky darkened, and Gandalf felt his strength wane. "I am Athelstan Stormshield, Dovahkiin Taloson! Dragonborn, Alduin slayer! The Dragonkin Hunter Born."

The air shimmered as the Dovahkiin drew himself back in, and once more became a man, standing there as if nothing had happened.

"Forgive my theatrics, but I need you to take me seriously and leave no seed of doubt." The Dovahkiin said evenly to the wizard, who bristled as his voice returned.

"Trust me when I say you have left none! What sort of being are you? Seemingly of the race of Men, yet underneath a dragon of the dark years." Gandalf questioned, still holding his staff strongly. The Dovahkiin raised his hands in a friendly manner.

"I mean you no harm, Mithrandir. I have been sent to aid you, if I can." Athelstan gestured to the road smiling. "Come let us go onward and I shall answer any questions you have for me."

"Come then, we have some distance to cover," Gandalf said wearily. "And I have many questions"

The sun had sunk towards the hills as the two men walked towards a town picketed by a short wall of wood, set on the road was a wooden gate that looked only fit the keep the cows out, or in judging by the smell. The Dovahkiin and Gandalf where rapped in conversation as they reached the gate.

"So, your father is a Nord?" Said Gandalf thoughtfully, "Who is a race of men from Skyrim."

"Yes, he was." Athelstan said and smiled fondly. "A strong warrior, a loyal legionary and a loving father."

"Your mother however was an Orc?" Asked Gandalf guardedly, casting a sideways look at the man.

"Yes, she was." Athelstan said warningly, sensing the tone in the wizard's voice. "though their true name is Orsimer, they are closer to Elves to the orcs you describe. She was a hard, but kind-hearted woman, she taught me to smith my first blade, she was never the same when my father passed."

"Oh, I'm sorry," The wizard mumbled out. "How did he pass?"

"A wound he sustained in the Battle of the Red Ring, saving the Emperors life from an elvish mace." The Dovahkiin's voice wandered off airily. "The bones never quite set right."

"An elvish mace?" Gandalf asked astonished. "Men fought Elves in your world?"

"Ever since they first met!" The Dovahkiin barked with a laugh but drew quiet as the shadow of memory fell upon him. "But that is a story for another time, come. What is this place to which you have brought me?"

"This? Oh, this is the town of Bree, a small but growing settlement of men, they are good people," Gandalf said, before mumbling to himself. "Though they can be suspicious of outsiders, but they know me well enough."

"Quaint." The Dovahkiin said dryly, he looked over the town quietly as Gandalf rapped his staff on the gate and started to speak to the man who opened it. Athelstan smiled slightly as he looked at the buildings and happier memories came to him, Riften. He thought to himself, the corrupt gate guards and the guild, oh the guild, his second family after the Companions. He chuckled slightly, remembering how he had to explain his sudden mastership of the Thieves Guild to the Circle, he could still see Kodlak standing in front of him with a bemused and exasperated look. Kodlak locked eyes to him with a stern face.

"Athelstan?" He said, causing the Dovahkiin to start. "Are you alright?"

"Kodlak?" Athelstan asked quietly as he mind was torn back to the world, reeling from the powerful magic of memory.

"Who is Kodlak?" Asked Gandalf with a concerned look, standing in front of the Dovahkiin, where Kodlak had just been, Athelstan slipped back into his usual frown.

"No one, just a ghost." The Dovahkiin said, trying to smother the emotion that had welled within him, he strode into the streets of Bree with Gandalf catching him and matching his stride. "Why are we here?"

"Well for one, we need horses, two horses suited for long journeys." Gandalf said waving his hand forward to a lager building that sat at the crossroads, it was two stories with many windows, a wooden sign hung from a metal fixture.

"I have a horse." Said the Dovahkiin, it was more a statement. "Though I appreciate the thought.

"Oh," Gandalf spoke, derailed but to his credit quickly regained his thoughts. "Well then I'll need a horse, also the hour is late, and we might as well rest and eat, we'll leave on the morrow."

Gandalf reached the door and pushed it open revealing an Inn, the Dovahkiin breathed deeply drinking it all in. It was different from the ones in Skyrim, a hearth didn't dominate the centre of the room and it was more tightly packed with tables and chairs, they didn't get far before a loud booming voice filled the air.

"'Ello there Gandalf!" The man behind the bar said, his voice reminded Athelstan of the more rural parts of Cyrodiil, it was homely, warm and inviting. "Didn't expect you so soon! After seeing you with the Dwarf, caused quite a stir that did I'll tell you, don't often see their folk in these parts!"

Athelstan raised a brow as the man continued, ushering them to a table in the tavern. Still rambling on about one person and another, when they where seated he grabbed another chair and sat with them for a while.

"We've been quiet recently, that Ferny fella down the way has been poachin' my patrons, poachin' I say. I tried to have words with him Mr. Gandalf, sure as dawn I did, but the man has hired some ruffians to keep me out and my patrons in!" The barman ranted on, as a woman brought three mugs and set them before them. Athelstan looked down into dark liquid, ale he thought well enough, he took a sniff. Cheap ale, he thought and took a sip, grimacing. Very cheap ale, he looked at the woman behind the bar who smiled apologetically.

"Though I see you brought a guest with you this time Mr. Gandalf!" The barman said. "One of those Rangers I don't doubt! Barney Butterbur, at your service." Barney stretched out his hand and Athelstan took it making the man smile.

"I'm not a Ranger, friend. In fact, I'm a stranger to this land, I'm from…." Athelstan speared a glance to Gandalf who for his part nodded, remembering their conversations on the road and what to say if questioned on his origin by common people. "I'm from Westernesse."

Athelstan flicked his head to the bar and shot his hand to the hilt of a dagger as tankard hit the floor and the woman gasped covering her mouth with wide eyes. Barney stood slowly from his chair growing pale.

"By all that is good, I knew it as soon as I looked at you! The kin of the Kings of Old!" Barney almost cheered "Here in Bree! In the Prancing Pony no less!"

Gandalf coughed drawing attention to him, slowly bringing his hand to rest on Barney's arm. Athelstan saw the man's eyes grow wide and far off as if under some spell.

"It will be best if you don't speak of this Barney." Gandalf said in a soft voice, though Athelstan felt the power drip from every word. "We wouldn't want those of ill-intent to hear of this, wouldn't we?"

"Oh," Barney said deflating somewhat. His eyes still far off, almost dreamily. "Oh yes, so silly of me. Not a word to anyone, 'ear that Margery? Not a word."

The woman at the bar, now known as Margery, nodded to Barney and slowly retreated from the room, but not before stealing one awe filled glance towards the Dovahkiin. Barney came back to himself, blinking a few times as the magic settled on his mind and looked back to Athelstan.

"Is there anything I could bring you mi'lord?" He asked grinning, putting on a more regal tone, though better to say, what he believed a regal tone would sound like. "More ale mayhap?"

"Your ale is…. Like water in a desert!" Athelstan lied to the man, wanting to in the first time in eons to be kind. Barney smiled proudly at this proclamation. "But I thirst for something I haven't tasted in many years! Have you by chance any mead?"

Butterbur's smile widened as he stood straighter, though after a moment he sagged somewhat, as if an unwelcomed thought entered his mind and fiddled with his thumbs somewhat.

"We have once barrel mi'lord, came up all the way from Rohan it did, paid a small fortune for it by our reckoning." The man said but drew back as if the bare dire news. "We where hoping to save it for the winter, but that being said, if business stays as is, we might not be here by winter."

"Mr. Butterbur, my dear friend." Athelstan said, as a hunger welled in his heart. "I would gift you the barrels weight in gold and precious stones, if you would give me but one cup of mead."

Barney chewed his lip slightly and fiddled with his hands lightly before nodding quickly and almost flew behind the bar, disappearing into a cellar. When the room was empty Athelstan leveled a glare at the wizard, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Westernesse?" He asked, accusingly. "You said that would keep attention off me?"

"Well, its less likely to draw attention then saying you're from another world." Gandalf said drawing out a pipe, and dropping some pipe weed into it. "Not to mention you're a head and a half taller than any man I've seen since last kings in the west, no doubt many men will make that connection, it is a convenient lie."

Athelstan quietly fumed, feeling tricked by this wizard but it faded somewhat as Butterbur returned with the mead, in a pewter tankard mug no doubt and placed it in front of the Dovahkiin. It was almost filled to the brim, Athelstan felts a desperate need fill him as he raised the tankard carefully as to not spill a single drop, he took one long sip of the golden wine. All at once a wave of memories threatened to burst from his chest, of warm hearths, hard and windswept plains, fridged wastes and snow-capped mountains, home. He felt, all that was once good and quiet in his life embodied in one drink. Gandalf watched as he as a wave of emotion wash over the man.

"By my ancestors, Butterbur. You know not what kindness you have done!" Athelstan took a deep swig and placed the tankard down with care. "Your hands, friend! Place them out and cup them!"

The voice was filled with command and Barney did as he was bade as Athelstan reached down and brought up a pouch that rested on his belt, with a keen face he reached his arm in, so far to reach his elbow. Which Barney thought was odd, a small part of him said, it was only a small bag.

Meanwhile, in a far-off land, deep under the earth, just above a sea of glitter and metal a small blue portal opened and through it reached at first a hand but quickly enough and entire arm to the elbow. It pawed briefly in the air before finding its target, grabbing in a great fist it took a small wealth of riches and withdrew back behind the portal. It had missed the hacked and mutilated corpses the creatures that had once called this place home.

"As promised! Barney!" Athelstan cried. "Its weight in gold and precious stones!"

Barney was lost for words as this man placed in his palms a wealth greater than the inn was worth, thick and round coins of gold and silver, stones of hues too great to recognize, beyond anything he had seen in his life. He felt his arms sag under the weight of the treasures. He almost wept in gladness when he found his voice.

"You are too kind lord!" Barney cried, causing Margery to rush back into the room and likewise be rendered aghast by the treasure. "You are truly a lord of old, a true ring-giver!"

"Ring-giver? Not as yet Mr. Butterbur!" Athelstan warned. "I told you, the barrels weight. Bring me a chest you deem fit and I shall fill it likewise for the kindness you gave me!"

"Perhaps food and room for the night?" Gandalf interjected, before the man sprinted to a door.

"For this Mr. Gandalf, you may have ale, food and board as long as my blood keeps this inn!" Barney cried joyously before disappearing.

Athelstan smiled broadly as he downed the mead, turning his head back so it flowed down his throat. Not long after Gandalf smiled behind the pipe-smoke.

"That was very kind of you." He said as they heard the clank of cookery in the kitchen, "They may not show it, but they've been struggling for a few years."

"Well, it pays to pay well." Said the Dovahkiin, his usual old grumpiness slipping back into focus. "Now, tell me about this Dragon."

It was early the next morning when the Dovahkiin and Gandalf stepped out of the Prancing Pony, the former stretched contentedly truly he enjoyed his first bed in thousands of years as he had confessed to the wizard last night. He had opted to wear a coat of fine mail under his leather tunic after talking with Gandalf, though these lands where guarded watchfully by the Dúnedain of the north, the watchers where few in number, it paid to be safe. Well to be seen to play it safe, ever since the curse of Akatosh had been placed on him, Athelstan had not bothered with armour apart from to look the part.

"So where is this horse you made mention of?" Asked Gandalf, looking towards the town's stables.

"Oh yes, I had almost forgot." The Dovahkiin said, he reached deep within his mind and called out to his horse over time and distance. He heard Gandalf give a start as out of a single standing post trotted a great black stallion that seemed to project dread and his glowing red eyes found his master. He moved next to him, butting him with his noise, pushing him a pace backwards. "I know its been a while, yes I missed you too."

The midnight horse whinnied and began to slap its lips, nibbling at the pouch in the Dovahkiin's belt. Athelstan sighed, reaching in produced an apple that seemed to shine like a diamond, but as the horse reached to eat it Athelstan pulled it back and place a hand on its nose.

"Don't get too greedy, there aren't many of these left." He chuckled and the horse batted his hand away and snatched the apple. "This is Shadowmere, a very old and very annoying friend."

"What kind of horse is this?" Gandalf asked as he took a tentative step toward dread horse.

"Well, he's not really a horse, not anymore at least." Athelstan said quizzically. "He was a gift from a leader of an assassin death cult, they where hired to kill me more times than I cared for, so I sent them I polite request to stop, as a gesture of good faith, I was gifted Shadowmere."

That wasn't strictly true, Athelstan thought to himself, more like he built and effigy of a man and impaled the heads of four of their best assassins on spikes to make it look like the effigy had four heads and placed it at the door of their secret hideaway with a note that said, 'I know where you live." After which the leader Astrid met with him to inform him that the message was received and took an oath upon a shrine of Sithis that they would place him on a blacklist for contracts, additionally as a token of good faith and to get the Dovahkiin as far away as possible. But the wizard didn't need to know that. Gandalf seemed unconvinced but let the matter slide.

"Well in any case, like we discussed I'll head north to gather the party and meet you at Bag End, since you are driven to travel alone. You're sure you won't get lost?" Gandalf asked.

"I have the map you gave me," The Dovahkiin patted his chest and he grabbed the rein's and started to walk towards the town gate. "Don't be late, Grey Wanderer!"

"A wizard is never late! Nor is he early! He arrives precisely when he means to!" Gandalf retorted agitated, to which he earned a snort from the man and whinny that almost sounded like a laugh from Shadowmere. Gandalf cast his eyes to the sky and sighed. "I hope you have it right with him, I truly do."

Athelstan looked behind him to see the wizard had vanished, he stood still the square as Shadowmere snorted and tried to nibble his hair.

"I know, he knows more than he's saying." The Dovahkiin moved Shadowmere's muzzle away. "We'll have to watch him."

Athelstan cast a glance around the town and spied a plump looking man with black shoulder length hair carrying a crate of carrots, trying very hard not to be seen by the giant man and his demon horse, but his wish was unfortunately unforefilled.

"You there!" Athelstan called to him, and the man slowly and fearfully made his way over. "Where is Ferny's place?"

"Down the ways there sir," said the man, nodding toward a street. "The big grey ale house can't miss it."

"My thanks," He replied and before the man could flee, Athelstan dumped the reins on the crate of carrots. "Mind my horse, don't toy with him."

Before the poor man could say anything, Athelstan had stridden off down the street. The man looked into the red eyes of the demon horse, which where strangely captivating as the horse stared back with its piercing gaze, in the end he couldn't remember when the whispers started.

It had been a good few months for Ted Ferny, he was driving that oaf Butterbur out of business and soon he'd be able to take the Pony for all the worth of air, he grinned as he imagined the man begging for his family inn. He almost didn't notice the stranger enter but when he did a chill ran through him. He was a head and a half taller than any man there and was built like a wall of meat and carried himself like a king out of the old tales like that Butterbur was so fond of. But Ted knew a troublemaker when he saw one, he nodded to his strong men as the inn grew quiet as they saw the beating coming. But before anyone could move, the stranger spoke.

"Lif." _(Leave.)_ He said in a quiet yet chilling voice. The patrons didn't know what he had said, but they knew it in their bones and didn't need telling twice, as they, mugs still in hand scurried out of the inn. The last thing they heard as the door swung shut under its own power was the scraping of a drawn sword. Perhaps the Pony would be more peaceful.


End file.
